


Consumed

by anniespinkhouse



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Gen, Headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2159043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniespinkhouse/pseuds/anniespinkhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'He isn't consumed quickly.'<br/>A little headcanon fic for Gary Kendal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consumed

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Gary Kendal belongs to BBCthree and In the Flesh. Believe me, I have no intentions of keeping him.

He isn’t consumed quickly. No. It starts with his family; too little care, too much discipline; a slap here, a taunt there, a hungry stomach and a hungrier mind. The soul begins to hollow. 

School begins and he’s fighting for air from the start, buried under the bodies of schoolchildren with fashionable shoes, the right haircut, the give-a-damn parents. Scoured-out depths fill with envy and hate and he learns to survive; fights to the top of the pile, and the bullied becomes the bully. 

He sees things forever through the taint of green eyes. The straight-backed child, lauded by his parents as a hero in the army, the queer rebel who is never doubted by his sister, the sick girl who can laugh as she lives the last of her life to the full. He has no purpose, no faith no respect, and he’s empty. Life is an endless stream of menial work, and friends who bend with the wind and fall down with beer. 

The Rising changes everything. 

Being reborn is hard. Rotter goo sticks to his clothes and smells for weeks. There is too little sleep, too much blood and brains, but he’s suddenly alive, and he’s not afraid any more. He’s got a gun, a gang, a girlfriend and respect. He’s powerful. He’s a hero. He fills his hollow soul by burying the horror and tragedy under layers of self righteousness and bravado. He drinks in the adrenalin and accepts free beer.

 When the Risen recover, it’s a different kind of tragedy. The peace is too quiet for him, his gun too still, and his power wanes. He no longer has a girlfriend by his side. It’s like school all over again; this time he’s fighting to stay on top of the undead, with their immortality and public-funded care. There are new friends and new loves for the Rotters and none for him. 

It’s wrong. _The undead are wrong,_ because if they are right then he no longer has power, purpose and respect. He’s not a hero, but a pariah. 

Trauma boils to the surface in memories at the dead of night, but he cannot succumb to it. Hate bubbles where his soul long ago once slept. 

Gary scrapes together his anger, his horror and his jealousy and he fights. He will not be consumed by the Risen. Yet still his soul is eaten hollow. 

***


End file.
